


Upon the Open Sea

by SunlightSurvivor



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Fluff, One Shot Collection, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-28 07:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6321319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlightSurvivor/pseuds/SunlightSurvivor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one shots (belatedly) written for Sanami Week 2016.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Morning Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece.

This was for the day one prompt: kiss.

Morning Kiss

Sanji went out for a smoke early that morning, emerging out on the deck in the predawn light. He sucked in the crisp spring air before popping a cigarette into his mouth and listening to the waves lap up the sides of the Thousand Sunny. The sky was a light lavender, signaling it was early, even for Sanji, who was normally an early riser in his own right. He shuffled to the edge of the ship and leaned against the railing, watching as his cigarette smoke lazily drifted up and away. His mind likewise drifted. It would be a calm day, he surmised, but anything could happen out here on the Grand Line, and he didn’t have Nami’s skills when it came to predicting the weather. 

At the thought of Nami, his eyes shifted from the sunrise to the tangerine grove at the back of the ship and he was brought back to why he got up at the crack of dawn to begin with this morning. The Straw Hat crew was only a day or two away from their last landfall, but Sanji wanted to use up some of the fresh fruit he had bought before he needed to dry and freeze the rest. Franky had made sure the refrigerator and dehydrator in the kitchen were top of the line, but nothing beat the complexities and luxury of truly freshly-picked fruit. He was sure the girls would delight at the delicate parfaits, poached pears and tangerine compote drizzled over warm croissants he had planned for breakfast that morning. Brook would probably enjoy them too, and maybe Chopper, if he covered some in powdered sugar. As for the rest of the crew, well, Sanji didn’t have high hopes they cared about what they shoved into their gaping maws as long as it was edible. He didn’t really mind if they cared or not, or at least that’s what he told himself. They weren’t the ones he was trying to impress. 

The blonde cook made his way up the stairs to Nami’s grove before flicking his cigarette overboard. He rolled up the sleeves of his wrinkled button-up, slept in from the day before. It wasn’t always his first choice to sleep in his clothes, but after long nights washing dishes, (or making sure those banished to dishwashing duty didn’t manhandle things) prepping for meals the next day, and then getting up early the next morning, there were times when he was just too exhausted to change before falling into his bunk. He’d change into a fresh shirt before the others woke up anyway.

Standing in the midst of the tangerine trees, Sanji smiled and sighed. The scent of foliage and citrus was a nice reprise when out at sea for countless days. And, of course, he was reminded of Nami whenever he came close to the grove. Even better were those small moments he got to enjoy spending with Nami when she asked him to help her prune the trees. He rubbed a green leaf between his fingers at the memories. 

Some, if not most people believed him to be a perverted womanizer. While he admitted to often having impure thoughts, his code of chivalry would never allow him to act upon them. And his love of women… well, he couldn’t help but express his deep passion of their beauty and grace. And if he didn’t exclaim his appreciation to the world… who would? The fire in his heart wouldn’t allow it to be stifled. 

But at the center of those flames lay only one woman, the one who engulfed him entirely in her spirit. He was compelled to show his appreciation of the fairer sex, but it was Nami who he loved more than anything else. Any time he spent with her was precious to him, nearly as much as the All Blue. 

Sanji moved around the trees, inspecting each fruit for ripeness. At last he found one, and easily plucked it from its branch. It was firm, but relented to a light squeeze. A dirty thought relating to a particular part of Nami’s anatomy ran through his mind, but before his nose could explode with blood he shook the thought away. He could always count on his libido to ruin a perfectly romantic reverie (not that he ever wanted to count on it…) 

Instead, Sanji brought the tangerine to his nose and inhaled. The scent was sweet and bright: unmistakably Nami. As much as she constantly rejected his advances or got angry when he was too forward, Sanji felt an irresistible pull to her. Even through all of her rage and violence, there were those times when she would smile and even laugh with him, times when she would sit with him in the galley after dinner. There she would write the log for the day while he cleaned up or jotted down meal plans. Those moments may have been uneventful, but they were easy and comfortable. Those were the moments when Sanji felt closest to Nami. Those were the moments that gave him hope. 

Perhaps she didn’t want to push him away as much as she tried to act like it?

Sanji moved the tangerine down to his lips and lightly pressed them to the flesh of the fruit. If those moments are what bring him and Nami together, if this is as close as he’ll get to kissing her for now, well, it will have to do. Sanji lowered the tangerine and looked out at the now orange and pink sunrise. He was a patient and persistent man.


	2. A Small Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 2: Presence

Nami was having a bad day.

It was hot, the Sunny’s cola engine was broken, her sails torn, and they were out of booze. Not to mention how exhausted she was after some harrowing navigation through two sleet storms, a water spout, a maze of tiny whirlpools and a huge, shallow reef that came out of nowhere. For now they were taking refuge by some rocky outcropping—not enough of it to call an island, but enough to stay out of trouble for the time being. Hopefully. 

“Nami, why’s all the booze gone?” Zoro growled, coming out of the storage room empty handed. Nami blinked at him incredulously from the deck. Of course this day wasn’t done with her yet. That was just wishful thinking, wasn’t it?

“How the hell should I know?” She snapped. 

“Because you’re the only other crew member who drinks almost as much as me,” Zoro said. Nami lifted an eyebrow. 

“Well obviously that means you’re the only other one who keeps tabs on it,” Zoro said after a moment. Nami threw her hands up, exasperated. 

“Where the hell have you been all day, you moron? I’ve been sailing this ship the whole time!” 

Zoro blinked at her and stuck his pinky in his ear. 

“I’ve been napping,” he said. Nami nearly fell off the second-floor deck. 

“The whole time?!”

Zoro just shrugged in response. 

Just then, Usopp emerged from his factory looking grumpy. He lugged a large, clinking box over to the deck and heavily tossed it down. Broken bottles, gadgets, and other odds and ends shifted around from the movement. 

“Well this is just great!” He groused. “Months’ worth of work down the drain in a few hours!” 

He crossed his arms and grumbled into one of his hands, trying to figure out if there was any way to salvage any of his projects. His dejected look said otherwise. 

“Oy, Usopp, you got anything to drink stashed away down there?” Zoro said. Usopp turned around, frowning. He could actually go for some hard liquor himself after such a shitty day. Alas…

“I’m pretty sure most of it fell overboard when someone decided to steer us into a sand bar…” He said. His eyes slid over towards a certain red-haired navigator. 

“WHAT!?” 

Both Zoro and Nami screamed at the same time, looking absolutely flabbergasted. Zoro was the first one to recover.

“Why the hell would anyone do that!?” He bellowed. Fire raged in Nami’s eyes. 

“I WAS SAVING OUR LIVES YOU ASSHOLES!” She roared. 

“Heya Usopp, what’s taking you? I need some help down here with the repairs,” Franky said, appearing in the doorway to the engine room. 

“Right!” Usopp said. He dashed to Franky, thankful to avoid Nami’s rage. 

“Don’t think we’re done here, Usopp!” 

Usopp cowered in fear and hid behind the enormous cyborg. Franky lifted an eyebrow while he pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead. 

“C’mon, Girlie, don’t you think there’s something more productive you could be doing? We’ve got a lot of crap to clean up here,” he said. He suddenly posed with his huge forearms pressed together. “Sunny only deserves the suuuuuper-best!” 

Nami seethed. 

“How dare you? I was—!”

“Oy, Zoro, we could use your help below deck too. Need someone to do some heavy lifting while Usopp and I work on the technical parts.” Zoro wasn’t particularly interested in anything there, but if it could get him away from Nami’s yelling… He shrugged and followed the cyborg down the stairs. 

“Hey! Don’t ignore me!” Nami yelled. 

“Go help someone clean something up! We’re kinda in a bind until we get to the next island,” Frankly called over his shoulder. “We’re all out of cola!”

“You think I don’t know that!?” Nami said. Her fists were clenched and shaking. What the hell was their problem? She’d been working her ass off all day and somehow everything that had gone wrong was her fault. Did they think she didn’t realize they were in serious trouble if things weren’t up and running again soon? Did they think she didn’t feel guilty for not navigating perfectly, like she normally did?

Nami rubbed her temples as she walked up the stairs to the library. As much as she wanted to rush back down belowdeck and give the boys a piece of her mind, a headache was brewing behind her eyes, and it really would be better if the crew could get the Sunny cleaned up sooner rather than later. 

When she entered, she paused in surprise. The room was in complete disarray, with books and papers scattered around everywhere. Even some of the drawers beneath the wrap-around bench had been jostled out of place. Only a few things were left on the shelves. Nothing was left on her desk. 

Robin stood in the center of the chaos, calmly reading the colophon of a book she had picked up. She snapped the book closed and crossed her arms. A series of limbs blossomed from a particular bookshelf, passing the book from her original arms on over to its rightful place on the shelf. The archaeologist bent down to pick up another book and repeated the process. She looked up when she heard Nami enter. 

“Hello, Nami. Is something wrong?”

Nami let out an angry, exasperated sigh. 

“That bad? I cannot say things are much better up here,” Robin said. Another book flowed over to a bookshelf on a river of elegant arms. Nami grabbed up a couple of books from the floor and stacked them on her desk. 

“I did what I could, but just look at everything! The whole ship is trashed and everyone’s on my ass about it!” She said. 

“True, you certainly did what you could, Nami,” Robin said. “Perhaps everyone is merely forgetting how difficult it is to navigate out here, since you normally appear to do it quite flawlessly.”

Nami felt herself flush at the compliment. She still felt angry, but maybe this day wasn’t going to turn out so bad. She grabbed a few more books. 

“Thank you, Robin. To be honest, I’ve always—oh.” 

As Nami picked up a few more books, she realized one of them was wet and dripping. Underneath where the book sat was a blanket of her maps splattered with black ink. Ruined. Red and white stars winked her vision as the headache blossomed into a migraine. 

“Nami? What’s wrong?” Robin said. 

She walked over and Nami heard the woman’s breath hitch in her throat. Arms and hands sprouted out of everything nearby and quickly—but tenderly—picked up numerous damaged and ruined books. As more of her maps were revealed, Nami saw just how many were bespattered by the smashed ink bottle. She was sure she had secured the bottle to the desk the night before, when she had finished with her work for the day. Apparently she had not done a good enough job in that either. 

Nami felt the frustrated rage build inside her, pulling at her skin and begging to be released in the tiny pinpricks of moisture in her eyes. 

Scrap everything she thought before; today fucking sucks.

“I’m sorry about your books, Robin,” Nami said. 

While it hurt and was frustrating beyond belief to see so many of her maps ruined, she could always make more. She had a logbook to work from and multiple notebooks of recorded information. But Robin’s books were effectively priceless. The older woman’s mouth was pressed into a thin line, her eyes cold and guarded. Even though she was normally a quiet, subdued woman, the silence surrounding her now was sharp and oppressive. 

Nami felt guilt wash over her. Robin had every right to be angry: Nami doubly fucked up this time. Not only did she fail to navigate properly, she also failed to secure her own shit. It was one thing to destroy her own shit, but as a consequence she now destroyed someone else’s. She grabbed another book off the floor. It dripped sadly in her hands. 

“H-Here, I’ll help you clean up. Maybe we can talk to Usopp about making something to clean the ink off—“ Nami’s blabbering was cut short when the book was gently but firmly nipped from her grasp. 

“Perhaps it is best if I were to clean this up on my own,” Robin said. Her voice held no anger, but to Nami, its absence only solidified its strength. She blinked and opened her mouth, only to find she had no reply. 

“Don’t worry,” Robin said. “I will do what I can about your maps.”

There was a finality to the statement that ushered Nami to the door. 

“I—uh… thanks.” Nami said. She paused at the trap door leading to the ladder down. “…I really am sorry about your books.”

Robin merely nodded her head in response. There was nothing left to say. 

~*~

Once Nami was back out on deck, she gnashed her teeth and felt an intense desire to throttle someone. She didn’t feel bad (well, not that bad) about ruining some of the guys’ stuff—she had kept them all alive, hadn’t she!?—but she felt awful about ruining Robin’s things. Perhaps it was the kinship of being the only two women on a ship of smelly boys, perhaps it was knowledge that Robin already knew so much about loss and destruction. What little she had left of her past and her passions were contained in those tomes; Nami had effectively destroyed just a bit more of it. And, of course, her own maps. And she hadn’t even checked out the rest of the ship yet. 

If there was one thing Nami hated feeling above all else, (besides, perhaps, being broke) it was guilt. So instead she got angry. Very angry. Anger, she could deal with. Anger was familiar. Anger didn’t lead to anything inside. She could lash out and push away all of these roiling emotions from her chest out into the ether. Nothing had to lead back inside. 

So down the stairs she stomped. Chopper and Luffy were sitting on the grassy deck, repairing the sails. Or rather, Chopper was busy stitching together the rends in the fabric while Luffy wrestled with the excess. 

“C’mon, Luffy, spread the sail out flatter on that side! Otherwise I could stitch this wrong,” Chopper said. Luffy grumbled and extended his arms out, wrapping them around a large bunch of the cloth. 

“Alright alright,” he said, “these are way heavier than they look, ya know!” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be super strong—oh hey, Nami!” Chopper said, looking up from his work. Luffy turned around and smiled. 

“Heya Nami, lookit how torn to shit the sails are—eh?” Luffy said. 

Rage emanated from Nami like a black fog, piercing through the captain’s and doctor’s skin to settle straight in their hearts. They fell silent and quaked in place. Nami stomped across the deck to the galley. Luffy looked after her, frowning. 

“Oy, Chopper, what’s her problem?” He said. 

Before the reindeer could respond, a piece of rigging came flying across the ship, smacking Luffy clean across the forehead. Stars winked in his vision as he was flattened to the floor, KO’d in one hit. Chopper looked on with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. Nami snorted from her perch by the galley door, flexing her pitching arm. 

Well that certainly made her feel a bit better… 

…Only to find the feeling short-lived upon opening the door to the galley. The table had been knocked over, shoved to one side of the room among a pile of chairs (and the sad remains of a few that didn’t make it) whilst a scattering of broken glass, ceramic, and metal littered the floor. Food of varying colors and viscosities were splattered across the room, including the ceiling. Knives of different sizes jut out of the wall like arrows after battle. Brook was in the center of the room, humming and sweeping dry rice into a large pile. Two bowls sat on either side of him, one containing rice, the other what looked to be bits of glass, dirt, and ceramic. Sanji crouched in the kitchen proper amongst an array of metal, springs, and glass, inspecting a bent pot with frown, gnashing on a cigarette. 

“—god fucking dammit these shitty pots are fucked too, just like the shitty mixer and the fucking— 

Upon the sound of the door opening, he looked up candidly. Nami saw the annoyance and heated anger in that blue eye of his. A snarl was frozen on his lip before he quickly wiped it away with a dazzling smile when he saw who was at the door. But Nami didn’t miss it. She knew exactly what that snarl meant, and she knew who it was truly aimed for. 

“Nami-swan! Are you hungry? Give me just a moment, or er, maybe an hour, and I can whip something up for you! Granted it’s not going to be what you’re used to and I apologize profusely for that but, well—“

But Nami ignored him, along with Brook’s intoning hello to her. All she saw was the disaster before her: the broken utensils, the bits of glass being meticulously picked from the good grains of rice, Sanji’s vicious glare. While she quickly calculated an approximate cost to replace the basic amenities of the galley, she also felt her guilt flare up exponentially. 

It wasn’t just that she’d done a bad job navigating. It wasn’t just that she’d lost all the booze, it wasn’t just that she’d broken the cola engine, that she’d soaked her maps and Robin’s books in ink, it wasn’t just that she’d torn the Sunny’s sails asunder, or completely decimated the galley beyond recognition…it was that even Sanji had been brought to anger against her. And rightfully so. 

Nami was used to people, especially the crew, being angry and annoyed with her. As one of the few responsible entities on the ship and arguably the smartest, she was usually the one that had to put a damper on the “fun,” whether it was telling everyone which chores they absolutely had to do or keeping them from killing themselves (“No Luffy, you cannot shove yourself in the cannon and be a human cannonball!”) the anger and the pouting usually rolled off her back no problem. She had learned to navigate others’ esteem of her by fending off the vitriol of Cocoyashi for most of her life. The Strawhat crew was sunshine and daises compared to that. 

But what Nami wasn’t used to was disappointment. Letting the crew down was weighing heavily upon her. It made their anger so much sharper, able to pierce through her normally tough skin. And the disappointment in Sanji’s eyes hit her harder than she ever would have anticipated. 

“Er, Nami-swan? Are you all right?” Sanji asked. Nami jumped, startled out of her thoughts. She suddenly realized he was standing right before her, cigarette in one hand and looking down at her with what was obviously sad disappointment in his eyes. He reached out his other hand toward her, but she jolted back. 

“Goddammit!” She cursed, and fled. Sanji blinked in confusion. He could merely watch as she spun on her heel and dashed out of the galley with the slam of a door. 

“Oh my,” Brook said. Sanji whipped his head around, suddenly alarmed. 

“Brook, what just happened? Why did she…?” He said. The cook suddenly paled. “You don’t think she’s mad I can’t really make her anything right now, do you?” Brook sadly shook his head. 

“I somehow doubt that, Sanji. The heart of a fair maiden can be quite fickle, I suppose,” he said. 

“I need to go see what’s wrong!” Sanji said, striding towards the door. A shout from Brook stopped him in his tracks.

“Wait! Don’t you think she wants to be alone right now?” The skeleton said. Sanji turned his head, glaring. 

“It’s a man’s duty to cheer up a beautiful, despairing woman!” He said. 

“But Sanji, she’s been stressed out all day, maybe she just wants to relax?” Brook said.

“All the more reason for me to cheer her up!” Sanji was halfway out the door when he was stopped once again. 

“She’ll feel even better if you bring her a treat when you see her!” Brook said. Truth be told, he didn’t want to sit in the galley picking glass out of rice alone. He would’ve just thrown the rice out but Sanji was adamant they salvage what they could. The said cook poked his head back through the doorway, pouting on his cigarette. Brook could practically see the cogs turning in the man’s brain. A huge grin suddenly cracked across his face. 

“You’re right! The sooner we clean this up the faster I’ll be able to make her something that’ll really help her relax and feel better!” He said. Sanji dashed back to his place in the kitchen and began to feverishly rummage through the scrap and offal, pitching items into increasingly organized piles. He yanked the knives out of the wall and chucked them into the sink to be cleaned. Bags were filled with garbage while containers of salvaged food began to appear on the counter. 

Brook shook his head, but he would have been smiling, had he still had a face with which to smile. A thought suddenly struck him. 

“Ah! Damn, I should have asked Nami to see her panties…” He lamented. The dented pot from before came flying across the room, smacking Brook upside the head. A new, decidedly Brook-shaped dent appeared in the pot alongside the old one. He fell into his swept pile of rice, chuckling amidst the pain. 

~*~

Nami pressed herself deeper into the tangled mass of branches sticking on her clothes and poking deeply into her skin. She clenched her teeth, pushing through until she came upon a tiny recess in the foliage, a small, shade-speckled hollow that could just about fit two people. The place was well worn, with the lower branches removed from one tree to create a backrest along the trunk. The closure of the tangerine trees created a soft, embracing hush that Nami often sought out when she needed to clear her mind or be left alone. For now, it was that she just had nowhere else to go. She didn’t want to see any of the crew. She didn’t want to look at the displeased annoyance in their eyes anymore. It felt too much like the days of Arlong, when they only human contact she received was a snarl of disdain from the Cocoyashi villagers and the only thing she came home to was the nasty grin on a fishman’s spiteful face. 

So she pressed herself into the tree, let the branches hold her up for the time being. Of course she should be helping clean up; no doubt there was more than enough to do before they could set off for safe harbor at a proper port, but for now, all she could do was languish in the fragrant shade and exist. 

The anger roiled around inside her, pinging back and forth between her skull and wrestled with other feelings Nami just did not want to deal with right now. She wanted to scream but bite her vocal cords away, she wanted to fight but also sleep, she wanted to stay here but also fade away. With an exhausted sigh, she palmed her eye, feeling the headache claw away at her brain. 

She faintly heard her name called off somewhere on the ship but she ignored it. Bringing her knees up to her chest she burrowed her heard into her forearms and sighed, disgusted that she was being so emotional. She was Nami for fuck’s sake! She was a beautiful, smart, bomb ass woman! She knew what she wanted and she took it by God, because she relied on no one to help her climb through her own life. 

…But there were times when it was hard being Nami, and all she really wanted to do was rest. 

The shouting of her name was gradually getting louder and she recognized the voice as Sanji’s. He sounded like he had just come up on the top deck. Nami took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. His suave black shoes clicked purposefully on the wood, and Nami held her breath. But before she could mentally wish him away, the foliage in front of her shook and shivered until the shining blonde head of the cook appeared. He practically glowed when he discovered his prize. 

“Nami-swan! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you. I’ve brought you some pineapple and basil iced tea so—hey, what’s wrong?” He said. 

Sanji had pushed himself through the foliage and by some miraculous power produced a tray and two glasses of iced tea, perfectly perched and unaccosted by the leaves around them. He presented the tray to Nami as best he could in the cramped area but Nami merely turned her head away from him. She huffed through gritted teeth and blinked in surprise at moisture suddenly springing in her eyes. 

Sanji gasped and practically dove in to sit next to her. He stretched his arm out to put around her, but Nami shifted and angled herself away from him. Sanji frowned but lowered his arm and gave Nami her space. 

Sanji felt his poor heart flipflop in despair. Not a drop of the tea was wasted as he delicately placed it in front of them in the small hollow. He wanted to press up against the girl and wrap his arms around her; he wanted to pull her in close and stroke her hair, to caress her soft skin while whispering kisses into her temple, but he knew very well that was a boundary that could not be crossed. So he took his appreciation in being able to merely sit next to her like a co-conspirator. That was enough. 

But he would not allow her to wallow in unhappiness. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft and serious. Nami said nothing, but took a shaky breath and swiped her hand at her cheeks.

“You don’t have to say anything, but know I’m here—“

“I’m just sick of being treated like shit today,” Nami sighed. “I know I royally fucked up and I know everyone’s pissed at me but that doesn’t mean they get to be total assholes to me.”

“I’m not mad at you.” Sanji said. Nami craned her neck to peer at him.

“I’m not.” Sanji continued.

“But all of your broken equipment…”

“Eh, a lot of that shit needed to be replaced anyway,” Sanji said. It was a bit of a lie, but he didn’t mind. Now he could get newer, better things—he was sure Nami would approve the budget he had in mind. And if it made her feel better… “Besides, a lot of the scrap can be given to Usopp to replenish his shitty junk stock.” Nami looked up at him, confused. 

“I heard him bitching about his ‘salvage stock’ being ruined before. So hey, at least we’ve got some new junk to replace his old shitty broken junk, because you know, that junk can really go bad after awhile.” 

Nami snorted and tried to hide a smile.

"Really, this whole thing is a blessing in disguise, since it’s forcing the crew to get off their lazy asses and reorganize things on the ship because God knows the poor Sunny has become a bit of a shitty pigsty. Everyone just—“

“Seriously, Sanji, you don’t have to act like you’re not mad,” Nami muttered after a dark chuckle. Sanji blinked, blindsided. 

“I, er, ummm what?” 

Nami turned back to face Sanji and glared at him. 

“You can get mad at me. It’s okay. I fucked up and I ruined a bunch of everyone’s shit and this time yes, I know it was completely my fault,” she barked a bitter laugh. “I won’t even charge you guys for being angry at me this time.”

Sanji placed a hand delicately on her shoulder. Nami looked up in surprise. He dipped his head closer to her peered into her eyes. 

“Seriously, Nami-swan, I’m not mad at you,” he said. A light blush dusted her face. She huffed and quickly turned away.

“Well you should be,” she said. 

“There’s many things I should do,” Sanji laughed, twirling a cigarette between his fingers. “Alas, I am merely a slave to my heart, and my heart is telling me there is nothing to be angry about, especially when it comes to you, Nami-swan.” 

The blush darkened, and Nami tried to hide it by burrowing her face in her arms. She smirked against her forearm. He was such a dork. But a comforting dork nonetheless.

One of the glasses of iced tea appeared in her vision, the glass sweating beads of condensation in large droplets. Sanji’s face appeared too, as he leaned over to smile kindly at her.

“Let’s drink these before the ice melts,” he said. Nami’s smirk deepened as she took the glass. She sipped, immersing herself in the tang of the pineapple with the earthy bite of the basil, humming in appreciation. The cool sweetness soothed her fiery anger. Lost in the moment, she closed her eyes, listening to the rustle of the leaves in the sea air, the lapping water against the Sunny’s hull, and the far-off banging of repair-work going on somewhere in the bowels of the ship. A few seabirds called in the distance. She sighed through her nose.

“Ah, well, I should probably go back to help Brook in the galley some more…” Sanji said. He frowned at the ground, scratching the back of his head. He wanted to stay, but Nami’s silence probably meant she wanted to be alone. He moved to get up, but a feather-light touch on his hand stopped him. 

Sanji whipped his head around to see Nami’s delicate fingers perched on his own like a tentative hummingbird, alight with nervous energy. She wasn’t looking at him. 

“Stay…please,” she mumbled. Sanji gaped, swallowing thickly. After a moment he opened his mouth to speak, but Nami spoke again.

“Just for… a little while longer. Just sit with me, please.”

The tips of her fingers just barely pressed into his skin a little deeper. The touch sent his heart racing and blood roaring through his veins. He wanted to dance and sing and bellow out to the open sea that Nami—his Nami-swan!—was, for the first time and explicitly so, asking him to stay with her. The effervescent happiness threatened to erupt out of him, but he reeled it in with a chuckle as he slid into place next to her. 

“I think I can handle that, my Nami-swan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for making Zoro seem like a drunk asshole. He just kinda acts like that in my head. :/


	3. Precious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 3: Handle with Care

She knew about precision. She knew about delicacy. She knew about the art of pressing one’s ear to the door, listening for the faintest of clicks and rumbles while the combination turned. She knew how to use the picks as an extension of her own fingers. She knew how to put in all of her focus and attention on the slightest of vibrations. She knew how tense she held herself right before the tumblers clicked and released. 

She knew about the relief of a successful pick; she also knew about the apprehension that soon followed, the excitement of pulling open the door, lifting the lid, releasing the hatch. She knew about the deafening silence. She knew how loud her heartbeat could roar in her ears. She knew the tightness of holding her breath, of the adrenaline sparking in her veins. 

She knew why her heart stopped when the golden glimmer was finally revealed. She knew how to will her heart to beat again. She knew how to tentatively… tentatively reach out with the lightest of caresses. 

She knew what the refraction of light within a gem looked like. She knew the approximate weight of a gold ingot. She knew the conversion rate of gold into cash. She knew the value of precious stones, cut or rough. She knew all there was to stealing treasure. 

Or so she thought. 

She never knew there was an art to pressing one’s ear to another’s chest. She never knew how telling the faintest of changes to the heartbeat could be. She never knew the pleasure of tracing combinations into hot skin. She never knew how a strong body could feel like an extension of her own in the throes of passion. She never knew she could give so much focus to the low vibrations of another’s voice. She never knew how tense she held her soul until she felt the release of being in another’s embrace. 

She now knew about the apprehension that came when seeing him frown—and the flood of relief upon seeing his smile. She now knew about the excitement of pulling off his suit jacket, of unbuttoning his pristine shirt, of unbuckling his belt. She now knew about the deafening power of a silent moan, the roar of bated breath. She now knew how electrifying the flame of passion could be. 

She didn’t think about why her heart stopped when she saw the shine of his golden hair. She didn’t think about how much faster it pounded when he smiled at her around a cigarette. She didn’t think about how he was no longer tentative about touching her. She didn’t think about how gleeful she felt when seeing the happiness glimmer in his eyes. She didn’t think about how natural the weight of his arm around her felt. She didn’t think about how often he converted her frowns into delightful laughs. She didn’t think about how much she valued every moment spent with him. 

But of one thing she was quite certain: the heart was the most precious of all treasure to steal.


	4. Coffee Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 4: Aroma  
> Nami's been working hard all day, so Sanji thought he'd bring her a little pick-me-up.

Nami shifted in her seat, rubbing her eyes with a weary sigh. It was deep into the night, but the lights were still bright in the library, notebooks full of numbers and measurements strewn over sketches and failed-attempts at maps. Ink was smudged on her fingertips. She huffed again and knocked her head on the desk. 

“Ugh, I definitely waited too long to work on these,” Nami said. In her grousing, she didn’t hear the door to the library open.

“Nami-swaaaan,” a smooth, soft voice cooed. 

Nami, though keeping it resting on the desk, turned her head to the intruder, a glare already on her face. It dropped into a mask of surprise as soon as she saw Sanji. Instead of his normal, energetic foolishness, a calm smile graced his features as he walked toward her with a silver tray. He was still looking impeccable in his black suit, despite the late hour in the day. 

As Sanji drew close, the scent of coffee wafted up from one of the steaming mugs. Nami’s face broke into a tired smile as she sat up and stretched. 

“Sanji, I’m surprised you’re still up,” Nami said. Sanji delicately placed the tray on the side of the ample desk, away from any drying ink or important notes. Nami noted there were two cups next to the coffee pot. 

“Ah, well, I saw the light was still on up here, so I wanted to make sure you had enough snacks and coffee to see you through your work,” Sanji said. He picked up the mug closer to him and sheepishly looked to the side. “I, uh, hope you don’t mind if I join you for a bit?”

Nami suppressed a smirk and picked up her own mug, the coffee black and bitter and smooth, just the way she likes it. She inhaled the steam. The coffee, a deep, roasted scent laced with a light citrus note made her smile and feel a bit playful. 

“I don’t know, Sanji, I have a lot of work…” She said.

Sanji whipped his head up, a look of disappointed hurt passing over his face before he schooled his features into a more muted, neutral expression. He set his mug down and turned to go. Nami laughed. 

“Wait, wait, Sanji, I’m joking, please stay.”

Sanji’s eyebrows lifted as he turned around. 

“Are you sure? Because if you’re busy I don’t want to bother you,” he said. His hopeful heart hammered in his chest. 

“Of course. Please stay,” Nami said, gesturing towards the wraparound bench beneath the rotund library’s windows. She then stretched again and took a happy sip from her mug. “I’ve been working on these things all day, anyway.” Sanji raised his eyebrows but wasn’t going to question his good fortune. 

“Sure, of course Nami-swan, if you insist!” He grabbed his cup and settled onto the bench. He sipped some of his own coffee, pale and sweet and hot, and hummed in pleasure. Sometimes he really outdid himself, even in the smallest of tasks—like making a really good cup of coffee. 

Sanji closed his eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the slightly musty scent of the library. It mixed with the ever-present salty sea-brine that permeated the ship, creating a deep, encompassing atmosphere. Floral and citrus notes floated on top—Nami, of course. The sweetness to life’s bitter backdrop. He sighed in pleasure, feeling himself relax into the cushion of the bench. 

A suddenly pressure on his lap made him jump and nearly spill his coffee. His eyes snapped open to see Nami situating herself next to him, propping her luxuriously long legs over his lap. He sputtered and swallowed thickly.

“N-Nami-swan?”

Nami giggled in response.

“I thought I’d take a short break before getting back to work,” she said. Before she even thought about it, she leaned forward and snuggled herself into the cook’s side, nuzzling the crook between his neck and shoulder. That brought her ear close to his chest, and she could hear his heart hammering wildly within. The sound made her still her actions, but she didn’t pull away.

What am I doing…?

The fact that she moved unconsciously scared her. It was easy to chalk it up to exhaustion, to the fact she’d been up here all day working in solitude, that she just wanted some company, but deep in her soul Nami knew that was bullshit. The other option made her own heart race and she didn’t want to think about it. 

“Well I’m happy to keep you company,” Sanji said. He was so tempted to touch the beauty in his lap—in his lap!—but he refrained. He was a gentleman, after all. He tried to hide the fact that his hand shook when he brought the cup up to his face. Nami, however, was too astute for that. 

A smirk curled its way over her features.

“What’re you nervous for, Sanji?” Her voice had dropped low and sultry, and she even found the courage to trail a finger around the outline of his tie. “It’s just me…”

Sanji sputtered and tried to stop himself from spitting out coffee everywhere. His heart jumped up into his throat. His eyes darted around the room, wide, and a blush brushed across his face. He opened his mouth and tried to speak multiple times before Nami finally felt sorry for him and laughed, cutting off his attempts.

“I’m only teasing,” she said, bringing the cup of coffee up to her face to inhale the steam again. Sanji cleared his throat nervously but tried to cover it up with another drink from his mug. 

After a moment Nami leaned back into Sanji’s chest, feeling heavy contentment weighing down her bones. She inhaled deeply, taking in Sanji’s clean but masculine scent. Despite working in the kitchen all day, he never smelled like food. There was a piercing purity to his scent, topped with the smoky tang of tobacco and the other herbs Chopper had been “sneaking” into Sanji’s cigarettes. Sanji knew Chopper was trying to ween him off of them by slowly incorporating more benign plants, but he never said anything about it, choosing instead to let Chopper think he was being clever. Either way Nami felt comforted by the scent; it reminded her of safety. 

“Hey,” she said after a moment. Sanji hummed in acknowledgement, raising an eyebrow down at her. 

“Thanks.”

“For what?” He said. Nami shrugged into his chest. 

“For being you.” 

Sanji’s breath hitched in his throat and his pulse began to race. Tentatively he curved his arm around her back and placed a hand on her shoulder, just lightly resting it there so she could easily shrug him off if she wanted to. She didn’t move. In fact, she didn’t even seem to realize his hand was there. 

Nami was too busy listening to his heartbeat. 

“I just don’t think you’re told that enough,” she said. 

Sanji swallowed thickly. 

“Ah—um, well… thank you, Nami-swan.” 

Nami smiled into her cup and leaned her head against his chest. Despite the coffee, she felt relaxed and calm. 

“Would you mind just sitting with me for a while?”

“O-of course, Nami-swan!” 

A shining grin dawned on Sanji’s face and Nami giggled softly. 

Yeah, this man definitely needed to be appreciated more.


	5. Fairy Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanami Week 2016, Prompt 5: Fairy Tale
> 
> Taking place right after chapter 851, Sanji dreams a little angsty dream...

The rain continued to lash on, slashing across the windows in diagonals swipes, obscuring any hope of catching a glimpse of the outside, the torrents heavy, stubborn, and oppressive. Sanji dripped on the smooth hallway floor, the basket hanging dull at his side. The hall was large and open and empty. He could hardly discern himself from the rainwater running down his face or the cold seeping into his bones. For all that it mattered to him now, he could have still be outside. Or in his room. Or dead.

There was simply nothing left. Nothing left to feel, nothing left to expect, nothing left to hope for. He and the rest of the Vinsmokes were going to die tomorrow, betrayed by the only person he thought trustworthy in this godforsaken, sentient nightmare. Not to mention that everything he believed in, everything he gave from his heart freely and fully and genuinely had been viciously mocked; he had no idea he was such a laughing stock. 

No matter, really. He was going to be dead soon anyways. If only he could melt down with the water around him, swirling down into a dark drain, losing sight, losing direction, merely feeling the downward pull into deeper depths, into the eventual dark crush of the ocean beneath. 

A shattering crash exploded next to the cook, whipping him up out of his dreamy state. Smoke and dust billowed around, filling the hall with a tan haze. Large chunks of the wall rolled around the blast opening, and small gravel tinkled to the ground, loud in the sudden silence. 

“SANJI!!”

The voice was loud and clear and strong, unmistakable, music to Sanji’s ears. He felt his throat tighten in anticipation, not quite believing what he was hearing. His hand found the wall, needing to feel something sturdy and tangible in the swaying tilt of his emotions, while he peered through the dust cloud, barely making out a thin shadow. He wanted to speak, to shout, to say anything at all, but nothing would come out of his mouth. He almost didn’t dare believe…

But there she was, bursting out of the dust in a gust of fresh air, clean and glowing and fierce, a triumphant grin shining on her face. Sanji watched her leaping toward him as if in slow motion, her long red hair ringing her face like a halo, Clima-tact expertly twirling in her nimble fingers. Here, in front of him, in honest-to-god flesh-and-blood was Nami: his swan, his savior, his goddess. 

“Sanji!” Nami snapped again. Sanji blinked and opened his arms, his body responding to her unspoken command faster than his mind. Nami catapulted herself into the blonde man’s arms. She was soft and warm and… she was real. Oh god, she was real. 

And— _hot damn_ —she was wearing that ethereal dress that left so little to the imagination and so much of her smooth skin exposed. And was crashing herself to him, her thin but strong arms banded around his neck in a comforting embrace. Her warmth affected him from the inside-out, somehow, as though she, herself, had nestled into his very bones, strengthening the marrow and soothing him through his very own blood.

“Wha—how are you—?” Sanji sputtered. He slid his hand up her back and gingerly cupped her head, pressing his nose into Nami’s hair and inhaling the citrus-tanged scent he had so forlornly missed. Nami leaned back without shaking off his hand and beamed at him. 

“Luffy and the others are distracting everyone while I break you out!” She said. Sanji stared at her, his blue eyes darting back and forth between her brown ones. 

“Okay, so Luffy’s beating up Big Mom while everyone else is distracting the rest of Big Mom’s crew,” Nami mused, her mouth quirking up into a smirk. Sanji felt his mouth go dry. 

“But—the manacles—“

“Pfft, no big deal,” Nami said, and winked. Sanji lifted up his hands, the manacles suddenly and magically dropping off of his wrists and clattering to the floor. His eyes went wide and his breath hitched in his throat. He felt so light, so hopeful, so suddenly… free. 

Another loud bang behind him made him jump, and had his muscles tense, ready to jump in front of Nami if need be. But as he blinked and looked around, he realized something was off, that the hallway walls were whole and unaccosted, that the smoke and dust has disappeared, that the bang was from the swinging door behind him, letting in a fresh torrent of icy rain, that the halls were silent and still, that Nami was gone and he was alone. The manacles hung heavy and mean on his wrists. Sanji’s blood ran cold and he choked back a sob, the realization that it was all a dream or hallucination—he couldn’t tell which—hitting him squarely in the sternum. 

Hope was a goddamn fairy tale he wasn’t allowed to believe in.


End file.
